


sheltered from the wind and the rain and snow

by handschuhmaus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Multi, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:33:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21839776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handschuhmaus/pseuds/handschuhmaus
Summary: {the "write a letter to a relative" plot device that I expect has been done a fair bit for Harry but... instead it's Merope!}
Kudos: 1





	sheltered from the wind and the rain and snow

**Author's Note:**

> ~~apparently I just... throw my Gaunt writing impulses about in various directions such that they rarely contribute to a single coherent narrative? er.~~
> 
> title from "I Painted My Name on A Bridge Today", an older song by Over the Rhine

The idea hit Merope one day, one of the last days she could afford to spend in the magical district, hearing an argument where the rich patriarch threatened to disinherit his son. 

And it was a slim hope--even if some relative existed, the likelihood that they'd accept her having Tom's son was very low. She knew this, and yet she spent her next to last knut sending a missive at the public owlery, addressed only to "Any Gaunt relation who is not Morfin or Marvolo". There are scratched out words and misspellings and she thinks they'll probably hate her before they finish the letter. 

But she waits, ignoring her growling stomach.

And the next day a barn owl appears, sleekly groomed, and gives her a letter on fine parchment. It gives an address in Bristol (tells her she can take the Knight Bus if she can't apparate there, the writer will pay) and a cryptic passphrase: "have I told you about Tully's beans?" 

* * *

Merope shows up to the stately house, painted in a grey-green and isn't sure what she expected. It looks rather Muggle, honestly.

A house elf in a smart little apron answers her knock at the door, and takes her "to see the master, Mistress." Merope exhales nervously outside the door of the study. She respects Marvolo, wouldn't dream of doing otherwise, but that doesn't mean she isn't afraid of him, or that she wants to obey his every command.

"Hello," says the man who must be the master of the house. He can't be a lot older than Merope, but he wears nice black robes and brown slippers that look expensive, at least with the Gaunt family budget in mind. "I'm afraid I don't know who you are or why you're here," he says, but says it kindly.

"I'm Merope," she explains, ever so quiet. If she had more grace, if she weren't ugly, maybe it would be charming. "I sent a letter."

"Oh. Well, I haven't received one recently. Did you, er, write my wife, perhaps?"

"I--don't actually know. I was just looking for my relation--" Merope almost launches into an explanation, except that the baby kicks and a wave of lightheadedness hits her.

"Are you--" he hesitates, gives her a funny look, "Are you a Gaunt?"

Merope is too mortified to do more than nod. The Gaunts are Slytherin's descendants, and they are in woefully embarrassing circumstances these days, and she's shamed the family herself!

His mouth forms a silent o and then he explains helpfully, "Ah. Thrascia must have forgotten to mention it before she went baby shopping." 

"B-baby?" Merope repeats, hesitant and disbelieving.

"We're, ah, having a baby," he says, not quite evenly, and she wonders why this man is ...embarrassed about it? "But you look terrible. Come, I'll get you some tea and perhaps something to eat? Clothes will probably have to wait until ...Thrascia gets back; I don't think you'd be comfortable in my things."

He steps along the hall where Merope has just come and she moves to follow, struck by this hospitality (then again, she's admitted to being a Gaunt), but cannot help wavering in her weakened state. 

Thrascia's ...husband? gentleman friend? (Merope is well aware these things don't always happen in marriage) looks alarmed, and props her arm around his shoulders--thankfully not much of a reach--and supports her with an arm around her back as well.

They stop in what is probably a parlor, getting her into a toile-covered armchair, and he disappears for a couple minutes before he brings back a platter with toast, tea, (with honey and cream), marmalade, and a slice of some sort of roast on a small plate. 

"Here, I'll have Daisy make up some soup if this is hard for you to eat, but please, eat."

"I can't just," Merope gestures at the spread, "in front of you. I mean, alone."

"I'll just have some tea and a slice of toast, Miss. I promise I've eaten more than you have in the past few days." But she still doesn't eat until he sits almost across from her, on the chaise, with a cup of tea. And then her own tea is so delightfully warm (and he doesn't frown when she spoons a whole spoonful of honey into the cup), that she tries to drink it down even though it's really too hot for that.

"Shhh. There's no need to burn your mouth. We have tea and hot water enough. You won't be cold again in the near future." He waves his wand at her teacup and it cools slightly, to a much pleasanter temperature. 

"Who are you?" Merope asks, after the first huge and heavenly mouthful of marmalade on toast.

His brow raises in surprise. "I'm Ephineas Prince."

Merope manages to stifle the "oh!" that threatens to escape from her mouth. A Prince! He's a Prince, he's from a great pureblood family (nearly as old as Hogwarts, yes) and he has stupid little Merope Gaunt, with a Muggle's child inside her, on his armchair. 

Before she can otherwise react, there are a number of noises, including voices, from elsewhere in the house, and then four more people walk in. Two of them, man and woman both about (Mr.? Lord?) Prince's age, have wavy black hair, and there's something different about the design of their robes. The one in front, who could just be this Thrascia, being about the same age, has red hair, braided into a crown around her head, and fancy robes of dark green. One step behind her is an older man with a little grey in his red hair, and relatively shabby robes, though they are neat and mended only in one place. 

"Oh! Are you ...Merope?" the red haired woman says eagerly, pronouncing her name uncertainly. 

"I'm Merope Gaunt," she agrees, with equal uncertainty from a whole different cause. Any time now, they'll learn she did things with Tom that no good Gaunt girl would do, and she'll be thrown out of the Prince house.

" _You're Merlela's daughter, then?_ " says the older man (older than her father, yes), and presumed-Thrascia grimaces for just a moment, like he's done something wrong. But that was her mother's name, before she disappeared when Merope was very young. (Probably taken by Muggles, Morfin had said. Merope had wondered later how many miscarried siblings they had, and if Mother had had to do something about that.)

" _And Marvolo's_ ," Merope nods, and doesn't stuff more toast into her mouth even though she badly wants to. She doesn't know why his expression turns sad, or why Prince's eyebrow is raised, or why the black-haired (could be Blacks?) duo look a little puzzled.

" _Merlela was my daughter,_ " he says, with great care, and more sadness than Merope has ever heard in a man's voice. A moment later, the detached thought that it makes him her grandfather arrives, but she doesn't let it make her think he might be kind. Chances are he's disappointed with Merlela, and that's why he's so sad.

" _My sister,_ " probably-Thrascia notes, quick and bitter.

"Er, how did the shopping go?" Prince says, much like Merope used to defuse the tension between Morfin and Marvolo. 

The other man rattles off a list in some foreign language, although Merope catches the word "baby" a few times. And he seems to slow down when Prince looks puzzled.

A moment later, Prince addresses the new arrivals. "This is Merope Gaunt, evidently. It sounds like Thrascia got a letter from her?"

The red-haired woman sighs. "Yes. I should have explained. But I was surprised..."

"Do you mind if I sit here?" Merope's grandfather asks, seemingly of both her and Ephineas Prince, indicating the ottoman beside Merope's current armchair. She realizes at the same time that he has a slight Scottish accent in English and that they had been speaking Parseltongue earlier, which the Princes and (were they Blacks?) probably saw as very rude.

But she shakes her head to agree fearfully, half certain he is about to rebuke her for disgrace.

"You didn't explain very well--you're having a baby?" Thrascia (it must be.) asks, and perches herself on the sofa beyond her father, on the same side of the room as Merope. 

"It's rude of us not to introduce ourselves," says the other woman, who has some accent that isn't French (the only other language Merope really knows about). "Bella Prince, by marriage, my brother Alex Mazzim; this is your relative Thrascia, Ephineas's wife, and her father Alec."

Merope cannot help looking round at the indicated people, and notices that Alec--Merope's grandfather--looks thoughtful, and a little as if she's said something upsetting. Bella sits close beside Ephineas (Merope has no idea what the relation between them is) on the chaise and Alex, the one with the black hair, sits down beside Thrascia and takes hold of her hand.

"I did something very bad," Merope admits, waiting for her grandfather to whip out his wand and hex her, or at least demand she come with him to another room if he won't punish her in front of the Princes. "But he was very handsome and--" she falters, but no one interrupts her, so she can only indicate her swollen belly and say "I know, this is a filthy dirty halfblood, but--"

"Did he--did you--he didn't force you, did he?" Alec asks, gently and hesitantly, and as if he is trying not to hurt her!

"I gave him a love potion," she admits, which is a sordid deed towards a worthless but oh so handsome Muggle. Thrascia winces, but continues to look towards her with dark blue eyes. 

"Merope, what exactly did happen to the baby's father?" Thrascia asks, in a very patient voice.

"I ran short of ingredients, and I thought he loved me, and he left!" she tries not to sob, and doesn't quite succeed. Her grandfather, strange as he's acting, hands her a clean but slightly worn handkerchief. 

"You were trying to escape from your family, yes?" Alex says. He has the same accent as his sister (of course), and he sounds terribly patient. Yes, she came here for help, but Merope knows what she's worth and at this point she is nothing more than a household drudge and vessel for Gaunt babies, and she's messed that one up.

All the same, he's right and she nods acknowledgement of it. She didn't want to spend another season with Marvolo and Morfin, with their yelling and their fists and belts and the accusations that she was looking at men, and the times when Morfin, at their father's behest, tried to go to bed with her. Right. Ephineas Prince, her aunt's husband, is a proper pureblood, and he's good looking enough, and so is--so is Alex. But then Merope is ugly; this she knows.


End file.
